


Balancing the scales

by KenzieMa



Series: Balancing the multiverse [1]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Timeline, Alternate Universe, Dark!Harry, Dark!Tom - Freeform, Dimension Jumping, Harry Potter as the master of Death, M/M, Manipulative Dumbledore, Master of Death, No Horcruxes, Powerful Harry, Sane Tom Riddle, Smart Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-08-27 03:33:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8385550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KenzieMa/pseuds/KenzieMa
Summary: Harry, as the Master of Death has a job to keep the balance of the universe. Voldemort's reign has tipped the scales too far, only direct intervention from Harry can bring about a future filled with enough life and potential to re-balance the scales of life and death.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go! My second official fic. I had this idea at schools and wrote out this first chapter on the bus. Let me know what you think! 
> 
>  
> 
> DISCLAIMER: HARRY POTTER IS NOT MINE, ALL RIGHTS GO TO JKR

PROLOGUE

 

It was over, finally, the war was won. But Harry could not celebrate their victory as most others were. For while the Light had prevailed, there had been far too many losses to their side to truly enjoy their triumph. What should have been weeks of jubilation was instead too many weeks of funerals and mourning. Hermione had been killed in the final battle, Bellatrix finished the job she had started back at Malfoy Manor, torturing one of his closest friends before finally killing her. He hadn’t witnessed it himself, but Ron had.

Ron, blood-traitor or not, was a pureblood, so the mad woman Bellatrix gave him the honor watching the love of his life being tortured to near insanity before being brutally murdered by the same cursed blade that had carved that thrice damned slur into her arm only months previous. It had apparently been too much for Ron to handle, for as soon as the battle had ended, he voluntarily joined Hermione in the afterlife, killing himself and leaving Harry to trudge on alone.

Harry might have managed too, had he only lost his best friends. But Hermione and Ron were very far from the last people Harry had to bury in the weeks following the battle. Remus had been fool enough to take on Greyback on his own, leaving a very pregnant Tonks all on her own.

Fred’s death had a very similar end to Hermione’s in that it drove the person closest to him, George, to quickly join him in the afterlife. The Weasley clan was but a husk of what it once was, with three of them dead and a fourth suffering from a werewolf attack, it was a wonder any of them were still sane.

Well, Harry was assuming the others were somehow sane, he on the other hand, wasn't so sure. Alongside burying what had to be almost half of his yearmates from school, as well as a good portion of the order, professors McGonagall and Hagrid included, Harry was seeing things. Or, he hoped he was seeing things, because the alternative was much more sinister.

Harry of course, knew the history behind the Deathly Hallows, traveling in close quarters with Hermione all but ensured that he was well read on all the important factors in the war. Harry had, in knowing the dark history of the Elder Wand, and the temptation of the Resurrection Stone, had disposed of the both as soon as he was able. The stone was left in the Forbidden Forest and the wand snapped and thrown over a cliff only minutes after he had won the duel with Voldemort. They were gone, which didn't at all explain why Harry had woken up for the third day in a row with the stone set back in a ring on his finger and the Elder Wand sat demurely upon his bedside table where his father's cloak, or Death’s Cloak rather, resided. Harry had, each time, gotten rid of the stone and the ring once more, and even locked up the cloak in some far off place wishing Grimmauld Place, his current place of residence.

Today was the fourth day he had awoken to the damned ring on his finger, and he was honestly near tears of desperation. He had enough to deal with, he had no desire to be the master of the Hallows, The Master of Death. Apparently he didn't have a choice. Resigned to the fact that he was not going to be rid of the Hallows anytime soon, he pocketed the wand and cloak and allowed the ring to stay where it was on his finger. Once dressed and ready to face the day, or as ready as he could be, Harry made to exit his room, only to freeze upon realizing he was no longer alone in the bedroom.

Stood in the corner of the room was a tall skeletal figure Harry could only describe as what the muggles assumed the Grim Reaper to look like. The thing even had a scythe. Harry had his wand, the Elder Wand, trained directly at the thing stood on the corner of the room, his whole body tensed and ready for a fight. A breathy, bone rattling sound that could almost be described as laughter met his ears.

“No need to be so hostile, Master. Not that you could do any harm to be regardless.” The deep wheezing voice sounded almost amused. Harry staggered backwards at the thing’s greeting. A sudden realization made him very nearly pass out, as it was he became quite light headed and dizzy.

“Death?” Harry's voice was steeped in both horror and a healthy dose of awe.

“In the flesh, or rather, lack thereof. I was unable to contact you until you had accepted the Hallows as yours, Master.” The thing, Death, let out another rattling sound that Harry decided to assume was laughter.

“I only accepted them because I saw no way to stop them from following me, I never wanted to be your master.” Harry dropped his fighting stance and dropped tiredly to sit on the edge of his bed.

“That is why the Hallows have allowed you control over them, because you don't yearn for their power in even a single sliver of your soul. Only a man such as yourself can wield them. That is why you are my Master. Riddle or Grindelwald would have wanted power over me for their own gain. They would have upset the balance in search of their own triumph. Men like them cannot conquer me, they cannot claim power over me, the Hallows will not allow it. But you, Harry Potter, are the first in over a millennia to both be worthy of their power, and to collect all three within your lifetime.” Death did not move as he spoke, allowing his young Master to absorb his words, to understand. After a long moment, and. Few steadying breaths, Harry nodded in his acceptance of the information before him.

“So what does that mean for me? What does the Master of Death even do?” Harry had a hard time comprehending what his new title would entail. Death took another wheezing breath before answering in a tone that left Harry believing the being before him was vaguely pleased with both his quick acceptance of his fate and his question. Well Harry thought, it's not like I have anything else to live for at the moment, perhaps this will do me good.

“You are to ensure the balance. But first you must understand.” Before Harry could even blink, Death had moved from his place in the corner to stand directly in front of Harry, a skeletal hand outstretched towards him. He felt the pressure of a single phalange against his forehead before he fell unconscious on his bed.

Seemingly endless information swarmed his mind, enough to break your average human, but as the new knowledge settled, Harry understood that he was no longer, nor had he really ever been, an average human. As death’s Master he was more. He now understood what was meant by the balance. For the world he knew was far from the only one in existence. The universe was endless, with parallel and convergent dimensions weaving in and out of existence. He now knew how the hundreds of thousands of deaths brought by Voldemort had tipped the scales too heavily, there was not yet an alternate dimension to counter this weight, to restore balance. He, as the Master of Death, had a duty to resolve that. The main issue with this was that, while his soul was now all but immortal, his current body was very much that of a mortal wizard. He had work to do.

The knowledge given to him by Death was, unfortunately for Harry, more of a general overview of the universe, and not in any way all encompassing. While he now understood what the Balance was, and why it needed to be maintained, he did not yet have a way out of his current mortal coil.

It took weeks hidden away in the Black family library before he found a solution. There was a ritual, if a rather dark one, which could transfer Harry's mind and memories, his very essence, into the newborn mind of one of his blood ancestors. With this ritual in hand, Harry began to plot.

This onslaught of information may have changed Harry’s outlook on life, but it did little to alter his character. So before enacting the ritual, he took care in which ancestor he took the life of. After what felt like eons of searching, Harry stumbled upon Nysa Black.

Nysa Black would have gone to Hogwarts in the same year as Tom Riddle. Only the Heir Black had been kidnapped and killed by a rival house at the age of seven for some transgression or other. Pollux Black, the boy's younger brother, took up the mantle of Head of House black and the first born son was all but forgotten.

He felt a little underhand, all but stealing the Black Heirship, but that kind of power was exactly what he would need, and the kidnapping gave him another rather brilliant idea.

Harry remembered eleven year old Tom Riddle from Dumbledore’s pensieve, that boy was already on the path to darkness, he was already bitter and hateful to those less powerful than he. He needed someone to intervene earlier, Harry only hoped that at age seven, there was enough of Thomas Marvolo Riddle to save.


	2. Wool's Orphanage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nysa Pluto Black ne Harry Potter begins his journey through the past. He learns that Tom Riddle and Harry Potter weren't so different at one point in life, and, had Harry not had his friends, he could have gone down a similar path. Realizing this, he knows exactly how to stop the future dark lord in his tracks, befriend him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> None of this belongs to me, all rights go to JKR, though the plot is entirely my own creation.

**Chapter 2: The Master of Death**

 

Being an infant was probably one of the most infuriating things Harry had ever endured in his life, and he endured Voldemort. His limbs refused to obey him, words failed to come out as more than jumbled garbled of noise and worst of all,  _ everything was blurry.  _ Had his new parents not been so interesting to watch and learn from, Harry was sure he would have died of boredom in his first week. And oh did he learn. Harry had always known in a very abject way what it was like to live under all of the pureblood rules and ideals, Sirius had complained about it often when holed up in Grimauld and Draco stood as a prime example of what growing up with a silver spoon up your ass made you into, but he had never understood the inner workings of a proud, pureblood household. Boy we're the Blacks proud. 

 

Despite trying to hold himself back and act his age once he regained motor function, he was still named a prodigy and a genius fairly quickly. 

 

He had been speaking full sentences at two and could hold conversations of substance by three. This did end up in his favor as his parents deemed him competent enough to begin his lessons at three instead of five like most children in his position would. Pollux was born when Harry, or Nysa rather, was four years old. He doted on the boy as much as he was allowed to, knowing that at seven he would be separated from his brother until the could meet again at Hogwarts. Where Harry was by then was only speculation at this point, but it hurt Harry to even imagine leaving the younger boy. As Harry Potter, he had never known the love of family, as an orphaned single child that could be expected. While the Blacks were not the most loving family, they did care for their children in their own ways, and Harry cherished every rare moment he was given to bask in that affection. 

 

+++

 

Harry was nearly seven now, he knew what was coming. He also knew that, unlike the original Nysa Black, Harry’s Nysa would not die at his captors hands. 

 

Harry had worried, back when he had prepared the ritual to send him into the mind of Nysa Black, that the Hallows would show up around him as they had in that life, which would be hard to explain to the Blacks. He was relieved to have his fears eased by Death, who assured him that, now that he had accepted his place as the Master of the Hallows, he could summon and banish them at will. They were tied to his very soul. 

 

At the age of six and three quarters Harry learned the reason for his inevitable capture, and it boiled his blood at the sheer pettiness of purebloods and at how they valued their pride over everything and everyone else. Despite living as one for almost seven years, he still held mild disdain for much of their way of life, even if he had grown to love certain aspects of it. 

 

His current ire was directed entirely towards his father, who had, from what Nysa was able to overhear, made some kind of deal concerning Grindelwald which he no longer felt like honoring. Despite his fury towards his father, Nysa rather enjoyed his life, and was loath to be ripped away from it. It pained him to know what was coming, unable to change anything if his plans were to succeed. So when he was grabbed by a cloaked man while out with his mother in Diagon Alley, he did not  _ really  _ attempt to escape. He kicked and shouted as any young child would, but all too fast for his mother to react, he was apparated away. 

 

+++

 

Grindelwald’s men sent a ransom note to Delphinus Black, the Head of House Black and Nysa’s father on the day of his capture. The stipulation for his return being the cooperation of House Black in their upcoming plans in Britain. When the week they had given his father was up, Nysa couldn’t help the feeling of betrayal that curled up within him. His life was not worth their pride, had he been the original Nysa he would have died at the hands of his captors, nearly entirely forgotten. 

 

+++

 

Nysa needed the Wizarding World to think him dead, at least until he showed up at Hogwarts with Tom, so he obliviated his captors, making them remember killing him. His name would not turn black on the family tree, however, which was a slight problem. He hoped that they would assume it a fluke and not assume that Grindelwald had lied, and continue looking for him, if they had even searched in the first place. 

 

+++

 

Using the Elder Wand, Nysa apparated to Wool’s Orphanage. His week in captivity making him look enough of a mess for them not to question his story much. His clothing was ripped and bloodied in some places, long dark hair matted and filthy, bruises colored his arms where he had been dragged around by his captors. He was truly a pitiful sight to behold as he stumbled up to the front door of the dilapidated building. He pulled the rope by the door to ring the bell, and promptly slumped against the nearest wall, in only partially faked fatigue. Apparition was quite draining with the core of a small child, he was honestly glad to still be conscious. 

 

The matron who opened the door was an unpleasant looking woman who Nysa found himself immediately disliking. She clicked her tongue at the sight of him before roughly grabbing him and carrying him inside. Even in his half-conscious state he took note of the many pairs of curious eyes taking in the sight of him. She was in no way gentle as she cleaned him up, roughly scrubbing him with a soaped sponge soaked in frigid water. The original Nysa would have been horrified at the turn of events, but Harry, having grown up treated like a Malfoy house-elf, took the rough treatment in stride, though if he was honest with himself, it was considerably harder than it might have been before living the lavish life of a wealthy pureblood heir. 

 

Once clean, she gave him a pair of coveralls that, by looking at the other children around him, appeared to be a uniform of some sort. Shrugging, he donned the, mostly clean, outfit and tied back his hair with a piece of string he kept around his wrist for that very purpose. It was then that the sour woman finally began to question him. 

 

He had taken his options as Nysa Black under consideration many times while stuck in his younger body, having little better to do. He had decided that, while it would benefit him to act the part of the abused little boy around the adults, he would gain very little respect from the other children that way. So he avoided the Matron’s eyes as he spoke, quietly telling her about how his family punished him for the smallest things and refused him food and stuffed him in a cupboard, basically his life at the Dursleys. While the woman was in no way kind to him, she did seem to soften the slightest bit at his pitiful story. When she was done interrogating him, she turned to the older boys and told them to help Nysa settle in, before leaving to start on dinner. 

 

As soon as the matron was out of the room it was like a switch had been flipped on the young boy. Where only moments before there had been a shy, hunched over, obviously abused little boy, there now stood what a wizard would recognize as a pureblood child, and muggle children would recognize as someone with a strong character. Smirking slightly at the now gaping children across the room from him, Nysa got up and made his way to who looked to be the oldest boy there and held out his hand. 

 

“Well that was tiresome. Nysa Black, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Nysa was aware that he didn’t speak or act like a normal seven year old, so he was quite surprised by the boy’s reaction to his introduction. The tall blonde boy ignored his outstretched hand before groaning. 

 

“Oh god, not another one.” The two slightly younger boys flanking the teen snickered at the comment, only further confusing the small child in front of them. “You can room with Riddle then, no one else wants to, and I have a feeling you’ll get on like a house on fire. Not to mention we’d rather not have another one like him sleeping in our room” Letting his hand drop, Nysa proceeded to make a decision that he would end up regretting in the long run, but he couldn’t really help himself. 

 

“Well with manners like yours I wouldn’t want to room with you anyway. I’ve said barely ten words to you and you’ve already dismissed me out of hand.” Nysa turned up his nose in a very practiced manner before continuing. “I mean really, you haven’t even told me your name, were you perhaps raised by wolves?” He knew he was being deliberately cruel to the obviously orphaned boy, but seeing as Harry Potter had managed to end up civilized despite his unfortunate upbringing, he allowed Nysa his disdain. Which he quickly ended up regretting as he found himself held up against a wall, the larger boy’s hand around his throat. 

 

“The name’s Lucas Grunn, and you  _ really  _ don’t want me as your enemy. I run this place, and you’d better learn to show some respect to your elders before you get yourself hurt.” He dropped Nysa to the ground, grinning at how the cheeky little boy was now wheezing and coughing. “Adam, go grab Riddle and introduce him to his new roommate. I’m going to get dinner.” Before he left he gave Nysa a good kick to the side to punctuate his message, one of his cohorts Nysa now knew was named Adam ran off to find Tom. Nysa groaned as he pulled himself off the floor, gingerly feeling his ribs, which thank merlin, were bruised but as far as he could tell, not cracked. He had just managed to get himself back on his feet when Adam reemerged with a small, scowling boy in tow. He honestly looked quite similar to Nysa, with the same midnight hair and aristocratic features, not to mention both boys were quite small, even for their age. Adam grunted out something about getting food and left the two alone in the upstairs hallway. A bit more wary after Lucas’s rough treatment, Nysa held out his hand once more. 

 

“I’m Nysa Black. Apparently your new roommate.” Tom’s scowl lightened up a bit at Nysa’s greeting, perhaps unused to being treated so civilly, if Lucas was anything to go by. 

 

“Tom Riddle, a pleasure I’m sure.” Nysa only grinned at that, pleased that the boy had taken his proffered hand. Tom gave a small grin in return, if a wary one.

 

“Pleasant bunch they are, is everyone here like that?” Nysa’s sarcasm seemed to catch Tom a bit off guard, actually producing a small chuckle out of the younger boy.

 

“I can see you’ve met Lucas then. I’m afraid that if he’s taken a disliking to you then you’re out of luck when it comes to the rest of them. Sheep they are, blindly following that brute.” Nysa, or really Harry within Nysa, could only laugh at the irony of the potential future Dark Lord bemoaning Lucas’s followers blind stupidity. “What did you do to piss him off so quickly anyhow? It usually takes him a few days to decide if he’s gonna induct a new kid into his fold, ignore them or, though this happens rarely, target them like I have been, and now you are.” Nysa went on to retell the goings on of that afternoon, from his little act with the matron to his jabs at Lucas’s upbringing. While Tom seemed impressed by his acting skills, he was quick to point out how dumb it had been to egg on the obvious leader of the group home. 

 

“At least I’ve got you, yeah?” Nysa asked hopefully. Tom seemed a unsure how to respond to this, seeing as he knew the other boy would run right to Lucas once he realized that Tom was no good. Strange things happened around Tom and the rest of the children had noticed. That paired with his rather scary intelligence, got him ostracized rather quickly. It was only a matter of time before Nysa, just like all the rest, left him alone. Deciding it was best to just not get attached, Tom just shrugged in response. 

 

“I guess. Come on, I’ll show you our room.” The rather quick change of topic let Nysa know that friends were already a sore spot for the smaller boy, but hopefully not something that couldn’t be helped. The room he was shown to was obviously a converted storage closet, making Nysa groan and grumble internally about assholes and making him sleep in cupboards. At least the storage closet had actual furniture in it, if the single bunk bed and well worn wardrobe could be counted as proper furniture. 

 

“I usually take the top bunk.” Tom murmured. Nysa just nodded and sat himself on the bottom mattress, pleased to find it at least thicker than the one he had been given at the Dursleys. The pillow was lumpy and the blanket threadbear, but Nysa knew it could be worse, so he didn’t bother complaining. 

 

“Did the others say somethin about food?” Nysa asked, suddenly realizing how hungry he was. His captors hadn’t bothered to give him more than some bread and water every other day. It had been three days since he last had any food, over a week since he had anything of substance. A stormy look crossed Tom’s face at the question. 

 

“Best if we wait for the others to finish and eat whatever’s left, otherwise the bigger boys will just keep the food out of our reach. Don’t worry though, I know a secret way into the kitchen.” Tom gave another hesitant smile to Nysa, feeling a little guilty over how glad he was to have someone else his age in his situation. He tried vainly to keep himself from thinking that, he knew he didn’t need anyone else, he had survived this long alone, but he couldn’t help the tiny spark of hope that the idea of Nysa at his side brought him. 

 

Nysa just sighed, apparently he was doomed to have a complete repeat of his first childhood, food shortage included. “That sounds fine, I’m sure together we can manage it. In the meantime, do you mind letting me know about what it’s like to live here? I’ve never lived in an orphanage before.” Tom made a mental note to ask Nysa about his past and began to explain life at Wool’s orphanage. 

 

“I was born here so I’ve lived here all my life. Most of the kids here, there’s about thirty of us in total, came in like you did. Either dropped off on the doorstep or were pulled from abusive homes. There are a few others like me, our pregnant mothers come to give birth here and then leave their kid, or die like mine did. We go to local public schools from fall through spring and in the summer we’re mostly left to our own devices. Once you turn ten you’re allowed to go leave the home during the day, unfortunately for younger kids like us, we have to stay within the gates. We have a little green space out back though, so there’s that at least. We’re required to go to chapel every sunday.” Tom didn’t mention that the priest thought he was a demon child and had already tried to exorcise him… twice. “Saturdays are adoption days, that’s when we’re required to be paraded around like shop merchandise in front of the prospective adoptees. Don’t get your hopes up though, they rarely pick kids over the age of five. Other than that, there’s not much to do here, unless you like to read. For some reason people donate books to the Orphanage a lot, most of the others couldn’t care less, but I rather enjoy learning.” Nysa perked up at that. One benefit of growing up in a Dark household had been how lax his parents had been about what he read. To them is was oh so very impressive that their five year old had wanted to read books on the theory on the unforgivables and the history of magical creatures. As a Black there were no subjects he was ‘too young to be reading’. Reading had become a favorite pastime for Nysa and he was glad to hear that he had found something else he had in common with Tom. 

 

“I rather enjoy reading myself.” Nysa commented with a grin. “I think I know what Lucas meant when he was complaining about ‘another one’ though. You’re really smart, like me. I bet being properly schooled by a seven year old hurt his pride and that’s why he disliked me so fast. I reminded him of you, who probably makes him feel inferior, and then I went on to insult him… which was dumb… and he reacted by throwing me in the closet with you, which is alright with me. So far you seem to be the best of the lot.” Tom was curious to see if the other boy was actually as smart as Tom was, he really hoped so. It was rather dull having to dumb down everything you said to kids his own age just to be understood. So far, the fact that Nysa had kept up with him was promising. 

 

“Yes, well, not everyone can be as great as us.” Tom responded loftily, jokingly jutting out his chin in a way that looked uncomfortably like something Nysa knew his father to do. The reminder of his Father’s betrayal wiped any trace of mirth off his face, something Tom took immediate notice of. “What’s wrong?” He asked in a much more sober tone than his previous, joking statement. Nysa jerked out of his gloom at the question. He wasn’t planning on telling Tom about magic until the boy’s next bout of accidental magic happened, seeing as Nysa couldn’t know what Tom was yet and the child would know not to out the Wizarding World to a muggle. This in mind, he gave a slightly altered version of his past. 

 

“You just looked like my Father there for a moment. I… The thing you need to know about me Tom is that I come from a very rich, influential family. They think I’m dead and I have no way to contact them considering they don’t live around here and I wouldn’t know where to address a letter to.” This was not entirely a lie, considering muggle post would not make it to 12 Grimmauld Place. “Before I explain what happened I need to know how much you know about the situation in and around Germany right now.” Tom looked confused at where Nysa was going with this, but complied by telling him that he knew about Hitler’s rise and how last year, in 1939, he had taken Poland as an annexed state. He had also heard whispers about how many doubted the man would stop with just Poland, even if that was only speculation at this point. 

 

“How is any of this involved with your family thinking you’re dead? I’m pretty sure you’re not from Poland…” Nysa chuckled at that. 

 

“You’re right about that, I’m about as British as you can get. No, what happened to my has to do with a man who is very influential in that situation, but not particularly well known. He works mostly behind the scenes, but people like my Father know of him well.” Again, not a lie. Hitler was guided by Grindelwald and Nysa’s father, as a Wizard, knew of the man. “This man’s name is Gellert Grindelwald and my father made a deal with him and his people years ago about giving them the political backing of the House of Black. More recently, my Father realized that it would be detrimental to him politically to support Grindelwald publicly, so he pulled his backing. As you can imagine, Grindelwald didn’t take kindly to this, so he sent some of his men to kidnap me to use as ransom.” Nysa’s face went stormy once more as he continued. “What Grindelwald didn’t take into account is the pride of a powerful English aristocrat. Seeing as it would be admitting weakness to give in to blackmail, he refused to agree to the deal. I have a younger brother, Pollux, so the Black family still has it’s Heir. Who cared that I was left for dead in the middle of London? Not my Father, that’s for sure.” It was concerning to see a boy so young be so bitter. Tom really wasn’t sure how to react. Nysa certainly didn’t act like a spoilt child born into the lap of luxury, but he found himself believing him nonetheless. He did have the name of a blue-blooded child. Deciding that that was probably the safest focus after Nysa’s confession, Tom pushed away his other, more probing questions. There was plenty of time for them later. 

 

“I was wondering about your name, it does sound kind of snooty. What’s it mean?” Nysa was glad for the slight change in topic. 

 

“It’s a star. My whole family have astronomical names. Except my mom of course, as she married into the family. But my Father is Delphinus Atlas Black, my little brother- god I miss him- is Pollux Eos Black, and I’m Nysa Pluto Black. My grandfather is Cygnus Io Black and I have an Uncle Altair Sol as well as an Aunt Fay Andromeda . Last I knew I only have two cousins, one from my aunt’s side and one from my uncle’s, Walburga Vega and Orion Rigel. Want to know something messed up?” Tom nodded, a tad envious of all the family Nysa remembered and might one day get back to. “They’re betrothed, Walburga and Orion are. ” Tom look horrified, suddenly a little less jealous of Nysa’s family, they sounded mad. 

 

“That is messed up, don’t they know that causes birth defects? Do they do that a lot where you grew up? Were you betrothed?” Tom seemed to have an endless supply of questions, which Nysa happily answered, subtly teaching Tom about the intricacies of Pureblood life. This became a very common thing between the two, with Tom teaching Nysa things he had not encountered in the wizarding world, such as science and maths, while Nysa taught Tom all he had learned and observed about life as an aristocrat. When school started back up in the fall the two of them were the favorite of every teacher. Between their intelligence and their manners, they easily gained a reputation with the teachers at school. The reputation was quite useful as when either of them were bullied during recess, most of the teachers took their word over that of the other children. They really should have known it was too good to last. 

 

Their new status at school was, sadly for them, noticed by the other kids from the orphanage that went to the same primary school. Aside from the occasional cuff to the side of the head when passing them by, Lucas had not been bothering them overly much. This ended on a dreary friday afternoon in late September. The two had been walking home together, as they did everyday, when they somehow found themselves cornered by Lucas and some of his friends from Secondary school, big ones at that. 

 

“That’s the little smartass there.” He sneered to one of his bookends, gesturing at Nysa. “And his little boyfriend, the freak, who you two have met before.” Harry flinched at the word freak, further convinced that fate had it out for him, restorer of balance or no. Tom flinched for a very different reason. He recognized the two brutes Lucas had with him, and oh how brutal they could be. “Now boys, my friends here were looking for some entertainment, so I thought, hey, I know some runts who’ve had it coming for a few months now, and thought I’d introduce you.” He smiled a cruel smile filled with promise of pain. The two hulking figured simultaneously took a step closer to the now cowering boys. Nysa, still struggling with his Gryffindor hero-complex, despite having embraced his more Slytherin side, stepped in front of Tom, grabbing the smaller boy’s wrist to hold him in place behind him. 

 

Tom could only gape at the other boy, completely shellshocked by Nysa’s actions. No one, not once in Tom’s short life, had ever tried to protect him from anything, let alone two very big, very scary thirteen year olds. He covered Nysa’s hand on his wrist with his own, finding himself enduring another first time for something. He was scared for Nysa, scared about what the older boys would do to him. He had never before valued another person enough to feel anything on their behalf, let alone the bone deep terror he was currently experiencing on is friend’s behalf. In the midst of his fear he could feel Nysa tense as one of the brutes fists came straight for him, but the taller boy did not move out of the way, choosing to protect Tom instead. And in that moment,  _ something  _ happened. For, in the seconds before the blow could land, they suddenly found themselves no longer cornered in the alley, but instead, directly in front of the gated entrance of Wool’s Orphanage. 

 

Tom was panicking. He had been so sure that he could hide his oddness from Nysa, but now the gig was up, even if it had saven them, surely Nysa would leave him now. Before his friend, yes friend, could start yelling at him for hiding what a  _ freak  _ he was, Tom ran up to their room and buried himself in his blankets up in his bunk, leaving a still open mouthed Nysa behind. 

 

Nysa wasn’t actually in shock, well, a little, for apparition at age seven was a sign of a very strong core, much like his own. It made sense that Tom, who had the possible future as the next Dark Lord, would hold such power, but it was very strange to experience it from Tom Riddle and not his evil counterpart. If Nysa were honest with himself, he had been trying to forget Voldemort, because, while Tom had the potential to become him, this little boy had yet to do any of the many terrible things that Voldemort had done. The display of power was a sharp reminder of who he was dealing with and why, which he quickly buried, seeing as, it was much more to Tom’s betterment to be his friend rather than his parole officer. So, at a much more sedated pace, Nysa made his way up to their closet. 

 

When he found Tom curled up in his bunk, his whole body shaking from what Nysa recognized as a panic attack, he calmly climbed up to his friend’s bed and curled up next to him, slowly pulling the smaller boy to his chest and running his hands down Tom’s arms in an attempt to calm him. It was nearly half an hour before Tom had calmed down enough to regain his bearings enough to realize where he was. Upon finding Nysa comforting him, he broke down in tears. Now, for your average seven year old boy, this would be nothing out of the ordinary, but Tom Marvolo Riddle had stopped bothering with tears by the time he was four and realized that they got him nothing. But as he started crying in his friend’s arms, he had to reconsider that fact, because from where he was sat now it seemed that crying got you comfort and soothing words from those who cared about you. 

 

Nysa had never been more glad that he was, mentally, twenty four years old, as any other seven year old would have been at a loss for what to do with the crying boy in his arms, and from what Nysa could see, Tom had needed this. He needed to see that he was allowed to be vulnerable with those who cared, and surprisingly, Harry James Potter did actually care for Tom. This brilliant and broken boy understood him in ways that his other friends never had. That is not to say that he didn’t wish with a fervor that Ron and Hermione had survived, he did more than anything, but in the situation he was currently in, he couldn’t wish for a better friend than Tom. 

 

It was only another ten minutes before Tom had calmed down again, he was luckily too young to be mortified by the act of crying in his friend’s arms. Instead he just turned red rimmed cobalt eyes over to Nysa, obviously trying to puzzle out why the Black heir had yet to run for the hills. 

 

“Aren’t you scared of me?” The question was so chock full of complete and utter desperation that it broke Nysa’s heart. This was a boy that had grown up being shunned and hated for his gift. It was no wonder that he had turned against muggles, despite his own heritage, as soon as he found out he was special. Harry Potter had always thought that Voldemort was a hypocrite for believing in all the pureblood nonsense, being a halfblood himself, but Nysa Black understood all too well. Voldemort didn’t believe that muggleborns and halfbloods were the scum of the earth, rather it was the muggles themselves that he had a problem with. Muggles lashed out at what they didn’t understand, different was dangerous, both the Dursleys and the residents of Wool’s were proof of this.  _ Perhaps  _ Nysa considered slowly,  _ there is some merit to the idea that separation from the muggles is best. I can only imagine how many muggle parents abuse or mistreat their magical child.  _ It was a line of thinking that Harry Potter would never have thought to consider, but Nysa Black was turning out to be very different from Gryffindor’s golden boy. 

 

“Why would I be scared of someone who just saved me from getting beaten half to death?” Nysa inquired softly. Tom’s jaw was once more hanging open. 

 

“B-but… but I’m not  _ normal.  _ You just saw that… that, that I’m some kind of  _ freak!”  _ Nysa, or Harry Potter rather, flinched at the slur, before taking Tom’s face between his hands and regarding min with much more levity than a seven year old should possess.  

 

“You are not a freak Tom, I would like you to  _ never  _ call yourself that again. Promise me that.” Tom met Nysa’s serious silver gaze and nodded as best he could with Nysa’s hands still on his cheeks. “Thank you, I have heard that slur enough in one lifetime.” Tom was confused by that, pretty sure the saying was ‘enough for a lifetime’ but dismissed it as a slip of the tongue. 

 

Nysa removed his hands from Tom’s face, but did not remove them from his person entirely, instead he set them on the smaller boy’s narrow shoulders. “Now Tom, do you want me to tell you how I know for a fact that you’re not a freak?” Wary cerulean eyes looked up through dark fringe at Nysa, not daring to hope that the other boy actually had answers for why Tom could do what he did. 

 

“Please.” Came the soft reply, almost too quiet to hear. Hoping a demonstration would help speed the process up a bit, Nysa pulled back from Tom and held his hands out, palms up towards the ceiling and concentrated. Wandless, wordless magic always came easier to children, whose magic had not yet been trained with a wand, you had to have a lot of it for it to really work, however, and Nysa had  _ a lot  _ of magic. Suddenly, the semi-darkness of the room was permeated by a startling brightness coming from a small sphere of pure light hovering above Nysa’s outstretched hands. Tom gasped, lifting a trembling hand and placing it on Nysa’s cheek. 

 

“You’re like me.” The words were a reverent whisper. Nysa smiled and put out the light, pulling Tom’s hand off of his cheek to hold it between his own.

  
“Yes Tom, I’m a Wizard, and from your little display today, so are you. We’re not the only ones either, there’s a whole world of people like us, hidden away.” There was hope in Tom’s eyes, something that proved to Harry that this was the right path to take. Tom Riddle didn’t need to be monitored, he wasn’t some inherently dark being, no, he needed to be loved, he needed friendship and most of all, he needed a place to belong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have plans for this to be a series where Harry creates new universes to counterbalance ones we know well. I think he may have to help Loki conquer earth in the next one, and in another he might help the winchesters end the apocolapse before it really begins, creating a universe without all the deaths caused by demon posessions and the like. If this sounds like something y'all would read, and if you're enjoying the first installment so far, please to let me know in the comments. As always, feedback is encouraged! 
> 
> Don't forget to come find me on tumblr @queenofallhell


	3. Life at Wool's Orphanage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Nysa grow up a bit, speak to some snakes and re-enter the wizarding world

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this story has changed a bit, I'm starting to love Harry and Tom's relationship a bit more than I thought I would. Basically expect them to be very close from this point on, I even come up with a resonable explaination for it!
> 
>  
> 
> A reminder that HP is not mine, all rights to JKR

Life at the orphanage ended up going very differently than Nysa had originally planned. From Dumbledore’s pensive it had seemed that Tom was a bully, using his powers to belittle and rule over the other children in the orphanage. Dumbledore had been very, very, wrong. Nysa and Tom were targeted by the other children for their strangeness. Different was dangerous and by the end of Nysa’s first year living there, even the orphanage matron began to turn her back on him. Association with Tom was bad enough, but after some accidental magic of his own, Nysa was branded as the same kind of freak that Riddle was. 

 

Harry Potter would never have condoned intentionally using magic against defenseless muggle children, but Nysa Black knew the truth. These children were anything but defenseless. Their words cut like knives and their fists fell like rain upon their skin. Day in and day out the two young boys worked harder and harder to become one with the shadows, to stay unnoticed by those bigger and stronger than them. 

 

After Nysa had explained what they were to Tom, about the Wizarding world and magic, Tom became enthralled with the idea. He listened with fervor to stories about Hogwarts and its history. Nysa was careful to only divulge information he learned as a child in the Black family home, it was more than enough for the ever curious Tom. 

 

Their closet room was their haven. Nysa discreetly placed muggle repelling charms and just let Tom cock it up to their combined accidental magic in the room. The two of them rarely stayed in separate beds after Tom’s first breakdown, neither of them wanted to give up their newfound source of comfort. Both boys had grown up without much physical contact or affection, and in Nysa’s case, he’d done so twice. 

 

Now conscious of his power, Tom began to work magic intentionally, in ways that, from an outside view, may have looked malicious. Living within the orphanage walls, Nysa now saw it for what it was, self defense. They were preemptive strikes made to scare the other children away from even considering messing with them. It only took four months of the other children finding themselves suspended mid air, or watching their things burn in front of them seemingly on their own for them to realize that every time something like this happened, it was in consequence of picking on one of the freaks. They were left alone after that, most of the time. Every few months someone new would arrive, or one of the dumber kids would forget exactly why they had left the freaks alone, they would not forget for long. 

 

Nysa knew that, when Dumbledore came to bring their letters, the two of them would be judged unfairly for their actions, but that mattered little in the moment, when it was a matter of survival. The difference this time, as Nysa chose to see it, was not that Tom made entirely different choices, but rather that he made them for the correct reasons.  _ His  _ Tom did not find joy in punishing innocents, as Voldemort had. That was not to say that he did not take viscous glee in the destruction of a bully’s property or in the injury of one of their antagonizers. Nysa found that he rather enjoyed that himself. Nysa could only hope that Tom saw, this time around, that justice was better than vengeance. Somehow he doubted that the original Tom had a nice thing to say about a single muggle from his childhood, where  _ his  _ Tom very much enjoyed the company of many of their primary school teachers. It wasn’t much, but it worked to show him that muggles were not a problem as a whole, but rather, muggles in close contact to them were. 

 

Magical children ought to be raised by magical people, that was a sentiment that both Nysa Black and Harry Potter could agree on, and it was a much better goal for Tom to work towards than the destruction of Muggles as a species. It may not have been the original plan, but it was a plan nonetheless. 

 

+++

 

In the spring of their fifth year of primary school, both boys were enjoying their time in the back garden of the orphanage. The two ten year olds were not often found out in the open, not wanting to risk getting the attention of the older children, but today was too nice a day to spent locked inside. It was also the day that Nysa got quite the surprise. They had found a small garden snake curled up in the sunlight. Nysa had been excited for Tom to find his parseltongue gift, but had expected Tom to be the only one to carry it this time around. After all, Nysa was not a Horcrux and the Blacks had no Slytherin blood in their veins. So imagine his surprise when he heard, and understood, the little snake speaking. 

 

The little snake lifted its head in a lazy manner as they approached it.  _ ~sssstay back two-legsssss. Thisssss isss my ssspot~  _ Nysa’s gasp was just as genuine as Tom’s. Nysa came out of his shocked stupor first and made to respond to the creature, curious if he could still speak as well as understand the snake tongue. 

 

_ ~We mean you no harm little ssssnake. We will leave you if you wissssh~  _ Both Tom and the snake looked at him in surprise at his response. 

 

_ ~A sssspeaker! No, sssstay ssspeaker, I have only heard legendssss of the likesss of you.~  _ The little garden snake no longer looked annoyed by them interrupting its nap, but instead it slithered up to them excitedly. 

 

_ ~What to you mean a sssspeaker? Are you not ssspeaking english?~  _ Tom’s question made Nysa laugh at how close it was to Harry Potter’s first question about Parseltongue. He quickly turned it into a laugh of delight, as Nysa was just now “finding out” that his friend had the same gift as him. 

 

_ ~Tom! You can speak parseltongue too!~  _ Tom looked at his best friend incredulously. 

 

_ ~Parseltongue? What is that? I’m only hearing english.~  _ Nysa only laughed again, before explaining the gift to his friend. 

 

~ _ It would sound like english to you, you’re a parselmouth. It means you can speak and understand the language of the snakes. It is a very rare magical gift that Salazar Slytherin was known to possess.~  _ Tom perked up at that, both at the idea of possessing a rare magical gift, but also that said gift was shared with one of the founders of Hogwarts. The two had discussed Hogwarts and its history at length, so the younger boy knew the importance of Salazar Slytherin. 

 

_ ~You are both sssspeakers! I must bring by friendssss to meet you both. I will return another day, young ssspeakers.~  _ The little snake slithered off, leaving the two boys to further discuss their shared gift. 

 

Later that night, Nysa snuck out of their room, sending a light sleeping charm on Tom to make sure the smaller boy stayed asleep. Nysa made his way back to the yard before doing something he had not done since arriving to this alternate universe. He called upon Death. 

 

“Finally making use of me?” The sudden appearance and immediate question from Death caught Nysa off guard. Placing a hand over his now rapidly beating heart, he turned to face the tall skeletal figure standing behind him. 

 

“Yes, I have a question for you.” He stated, once more calm in Death’s presence. “How come I can still speak parseltongue? I know I’m not a horcrux, Riddle still has a whole soul at this point.” Nysa scowled at the rattling laughter that his question spurned. 

 

“No, you are not a horcrux, but your soul still carried one for nearly sixteen years. Your sould and your magic are very much connected, or did you think you were just lucky enough to have chosen an ancestor to inhabit that just so happened to have a magical core to rival Riddle’s own, one like the one you had in your original life? You may be living in someone else’s skin, master, but your soul and your magic is your own.” Death seemingly glided forwards, before stopping directly in front of the small form his master currently inhabited. “There is much you do not know about yourself, Master of Death. It would behove you to learn.” 

 

Nysa sighed, “and how am I supposed to do that, I looked for ages before I came to this world, there is nothing written about my position.” Nysa jumped as a skeletal hand came to rest upon his small cheek. 

 

“I do not speak of knowledge that can be found in any earthbound tome. I am Death itself, I know anything and everything you could ask me. You are my master, call upon me as you did today when you wish to learn.” With that, Death blinked out of sight, leaving a dumbfounded ten year old behind. 

 

Nysa was cursing himself for his stupidity. He had not bothered to call on Death and ask for help finding away to this alternate dimension, nor had he bothered asking any other time he had been confused by his new role in life. He sighed, resigned to the fact that this was the path he had chosen to follow for this universe. He could ask Death of alternatives for the next one. 

 

He took a moment to catalogue his current situation. He was living as the current Heir Black, in a grubby orphanage with the child version of his former arch-nemesis, who, currently, was his best friend. He still had his magic and subsequent power from his last life and apparently would continue to have that for the next however many lives he would live. He was the master literal Death which apparently had a lot more attached to it than he had originally thought. Well, he’d just have to figure it out slowly, one step at a time. For now, he was tired, and curling up with Tom sounded particularly attractive right now. 

 

+++

 

August 1st was the day. Both boys knew exactly what was happening when the matron called them both up to her office to meet a man that was looking for them both. It could only mean one thing, Hogwarts letters! 

 

“Nysa, you know what’s about to happen better than I do, would you mind doing most of the talking so I can observe?” Nysa nodded in understanding. It was a common position for the two, playing on their personal strengths. While they were both quite intelligent, Tom had a better mind for picking up on the small important details. He noticed body language and wordplay that almost always went over Nysa’s head. On the other hand, adults trusted Nysa. He had a confusing mix of childlike innocence and maturity beyond his years that most adults, teachers especially, ate right up. So when the two boys entered the matron’s office, Nysa was the first through the door, with Tom following close behind. So close that he actually had a hand on Nysa’s shoulder. The two were small enough to sit together in one of the chairs, so they did, despite the fact that there had been two chairs waiting for them The boys were far too comfortable together to separate when not strictly necessary. 

 

Dumbledore was a shocking sight for both of them. For Tom it was the man’s attire that made him strange, for Nysa, it was how  _ young  _ the man looked. This Dumbledore was still in his prime. Both his hair and his (much shorter) beard were ginger in color, clashing terribly with his blue and orange robes. One thing that did not change was the twinkling eyes behind half-moon spectacles. Nysa was shocked to find his occlumency walls brushed upon first meeting the shining blue orbs. 

 

Apparently Dumbledore was just as shocked as Nysa was by his actions, or rather, that a ten year old had strong enough barriers to sense him, as he jumped a little in surprise as he did so. Nysa cursed mentally, had he known the man would look he’d have planted memories in front of his barriers for the man to snoop through as not to raise suspicion. Too late now. Nysa hoped he could just chock it up to his first seven years in the Black household. He had been known as a prodigy, the fact that his parents had taught him occlumency was not absurd, nor was the idea that he had kept with it even after being separated from them. 

 

Knowing his friend would not have any type of mental defense and also knowing how Dumbledore would view their actions up to this point, he leaned over to Tom and hissed in his ear, low enough that the man speaking with the matron across the room from them would not hear.  _ ~Tom, this is very important, do not look him directly in the eyes.~  _ Tom gave him a confused glance, but nodded in agreement anyway. Tom already knew the Wizarding World’s opinion on parseltongue, so Nysa did not worry about the younger boy mentioning that in front of the grown wizard before them. 

 

Having finished speaking with the matron, the woman left them in her office with Dumbledore. The man smiled benevolently down at them in a way that made Nysa want to sneer back. He held great respect for the man in front of him, no doubt, but some of Dumbledore’s manipulations of Harry Potter were a little too personal for Nysa to forgive just yet. Not to mention the man’s bias against all things Slytherin would definitely work against them as the Master of Death progressed in his quest. 

 

“Hello boys, I am Professor Dumbledore. I am a professor at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry” He paused to study the two boys curled up in the chair across from him, looking for some kind of reaction. “I am unsure how to continue as this is a rather unique situation. Somehow I don’t think what I just said comes as much of a surprise to you both as it does for most in your situation.” He gave them that smile once again “Mr. Black, would I be correct in assuming you have memory of your time with your family?” Nysa had to hold back a scowl at the mentioning of his family. 

 

“You would be correct professor. I know what I am and where I come from. I was ever so pleased to have found Tom when I was placed at Wool’s. I told him what we were at his first sign of accidental magic, sir.” Nysa was careful to keep his tone polite and deferent. Tom nodded in agreement with Nysa’s words. 

 

Dumbledore chuckled. “Well then Mr. Black, it would seem that you have done the hard part of my job for me.” He turned to Tom. “Mr. Riddle, despite your friend’s history, I’m sure you must still have questions. If you think of any, feel free to ask them.” Dumbledore gave  _ that  _ smile again which, from the glance Nysa stole of his friend’s face, was starting to get on Tom’s nerves. 

 

“Nysa has done a wonderful job teaching me about the wizarding world, sir. I’m sure if I have any questions I will be able to answer them myself at Hogwarts.” Opposed to Nysa’s childlike deference, Tom was almost challenging in his tone, something Nyse had not yet been able to train Tom out of. If the past held true, Tom would be quite the charmer by his sixth year as he was in the diary, but right now, he had yet to master the skill. 

 

“Of course. Now, speaking of Hogwarts, here are your letters.” He passed two thick envelopes across the table to the boys. Nysa snorted at the address, wondering if Dumbledore had noticed or had just not cared that both letters said. ‘The storage closet, Wool’s Orphanage…’ Seeing as this was the same man who had probably seen ‘The cupboard under the stairs’ Nysa thought it was sadly probably the latter. 

 

After sharing a look at the address, both Tom and Nysa tore into their letters, excitedly reading bother their invitation to attend and their supply lists. Seeing as both knew of Diagon Alley, they did not bother asking where they would acquire the supplies, but rather, when. 

 

“Sir, when will we be going to get our supplies?” Nysa asked, very excited at the prospect of leaving the muggle world and going home to Hogwarts. 

 

“Well my dear boys, we can go today if you’d like. However, I am curious as to what to do about you, Mr. Black.” Nysa stiffened, not sure if he wanted to hear the rest of what Dumbledore had to say. “You were declared dead by your family nearly four years ago, I was quite surprised when I found your name down as one of the magical children living in the muggle world.” Dumbledore fingered his beard in thought. “I believe I should make your family aware of your continued existence, don’t you agree, Mr. Black?” Dumbledore looked quite pleased as he asked this, as if ysa should be jumping for joy at the prospect. Unlike before, Nysa could not withhold the scowl that came upon his face at the question about his family. 

 

“With all due respect, sir, my  _ family-”  _ He spat the word like most purebloods spat the word muggle “-left me in the name of my father’s pride.” The bitterness in his voice was the strongest Dumbledore had ever found to come out of someone as young as the boy in front of him. “I may have only been seven, sir, but I remember enough to know that that know I am not dead.” He did not mention the fact that he remembered so well was due to the eidetic memory he had as the Master of Death. “I know-” He was cut off from continuing by Tom who placed one of his arms around his friend’s waist and squeezed him in order to calm him down. The increased physical contact did just that, and Nysa blushed at his outburst. He really hadn’t meant to say all that in front of the professor. “Sorry sir, that was out of line.”

 

Dumbledore looked down at the boy in front of him in a different light than the one he had upon first setting his eyes on him. “No need to apologize Mr. Black. Seeing as I have no legal obligation to bring you to their attention, considering your family magics would have let them knew if you had actually died, and they obviously lied about the fact that no such thing happened four years ago, I will let this be for now. What happens when you enter Hogwarts, however, is out of my control.” Nysa looked up at the red haired man in disbelief. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Nysa quickly thanked the man. Tom sagged in relief. He had feared for a moment that, were Nysa to be brought back to his family, he would be left alone at Wool’s.  

 

“Now that we have that settled, I’ll go tell the matron that I’m taking you boy’s school shopping. Why don’t you two go get dressed for an outing?” Nysa looked down at their orphanage uniforms and scowled. He was very glad that they had everyday wear for school that they could wear to Diagon Alley. As soon as the professor left they scurried off to get changed, and to talk in private. 

 

“Alright Tom, give me everything you noticed about him and all your questions.” Nysa’s request was something else that was familiar between them. After an interaction such as the one with the professor, the boys would dissect it and find all the underlying information that they might have missed if not together. 

 

“First of all, explain why I needed to keep from making direct eye contact.” Nysa gave a brief explanation of legitimacy and how he knew the headmaster was using it. Tom nodded before adding to Nysa’s explanation. “I’d say he uses it quite a lot. That sparkle in his eyes doesn’t look entirely natural. It probably serves to direct attention to his eyes so he can scan surface thoughts. By the way, you’re teaching me that mind blocking thing before we leave for Hogwarts in September.” Nysa agreed with the theory and promised to teach Tom the basics of occlumency before they left. “Another thing Nysa, he didn’t like you very much right off the bat, but after your little outburst he seemed to, well, pity you. I know you hate that but it works to our advantage here.” Nysa scowled, but agreed that Tom was correct about it being helpful. 

 

The two were quickly done changing and met Dumbledore at the entrance of the orphanage. The professor smiled at the boy’s nearly identical outfits. Both were in khaki shorts with a short sleeved button up and suspenders. The only difference being that Nysa’s shirt was a faded blue and Tom’s was off-white. It was unclear if either shirt had started out as those colors, but that mattered little to the orphans who were only glad to have clothing to their name that wasn’t the gaudy overalls they were made to wear around the group home. 

 

The two boys linked arms in a way that showed Dumbledore how normal an action that was for them. It had originally been an action to keep them from being singled out when they ventured past their room, but also served to keep them in constant physical contact with each other, something that, from their seating arrangement in the office, Dumbledore was understanding to be something the boys loathed to do.  Why the two were so close had yet to been shown to the professor, but he was sure that by the end of the trip it would be explained. 

 

+++

 

Diagon Alley was everything Nysa remembered it to be. Despite having his last visit resulting in his kidnapping, he felt no fear. Instead, Tom’s excitement was quite contagious. You would have to know the boy’s quite well to have read the exalted joy in their eyes, as they were both quite used to keeping to the shadows and not drawing attention to themselves. Dumbledore was resigned to not understanding the boy’s strange dynamic when, by the end of their trip, nothing had happened to explain their actions.  _ Perhaps  _ he considered  _ they just enjoy being in each other’s company.  _ Despite that being a very possible reason, Dumbledore had a feeling that there was more to it, and he was right. 

 

Magic was only visible as colored light during spell casting to most witches and wizards, but to those with immense power, such as dumbledore, it is possible to actually see the magical aura around a witch or wizard as they were casting. 

 

The three of them had been on their way to Ollivander's, the last stop of the trip, when an older witch, not paying attention to where she was going  as she exited the apothecary and dropped a bag full of ingredients over the two boys she tripped over, or she should have. The ingredients that should have fallen over the boys were bounced harmlessly off a semi transparent shield that appeared over the boys as it happened. Had it been anyone but Dumbledore it would've been assumed to be an impressive bit of accidental magic, but it wasn't just anyone. Dumbledore saw how both boys had raised a hand and how the shield was held up by not just one of their magic, but a mixture of both. All at once it made sense. For the two to have such compatible magic it would be entirely expected for them to prefer being so close to the other at all times. His revelation was only proved further at Ollivander’s when the boys were chosen by brother wands, and not any wand, but wands with the twin cores of fawkes's tail feathers. 

 

The makeup of their wands said quite a lot about the two. Nysa’s was holly and phoenix feather, a wand for someone with a strong will, a fierce temper and endless potential. Tom’s wand, Yew and phoenix feather spoke of a very similar personality. The difference in Tom’s wand was its tendency towards the Dark Arts, aside from that is also spoke of someone highly protective of those close to them and much like Nysa, full of potential. Dumbledore had not known what he would find when meeting the estranged Black heir, but he and Tom Riddle were not it. 

  
One thing was for sure, these two had the potential to rock the wizarding world to its core. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So who here wants Dumbledore to be helpful? No? It's that or have the boys working actively against him, I've yet to come to a decision. Let me know your opinion in the comments. 
> 
> As always, feel free to come find me on tumblr @queenofallhell


	4. Nysa's past revealed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nysa has a chat with Death and finds out that his relationship with Tom is much more significant than he had originally thought, leading to him discussing his past (Tom's potential future) with his best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reminder that I do not own the rights to Harry Potter and I make no money off this writing.

Nysa had never considered the fact that, with the same magical core as Harry James Potter, his holly wand would still choose him. It was a little suspect just  _ how well  _ he and Tom went together, both magically and personality wise, but he pushed that aside to inspect at a later date. He planned on calling on Death at some point before Hogwarts anyway, he would ask the eldritch being about it then. 

 

In the meantime, Tom wanted to know Nysa’s plan for keeping his family in the dark about him. It was a huge fear for both of them that they would be separated. Nysa had a plan, but he wasn't positive how well it would work. His plan B was one he'd rather not use, as it would involve telling Tom about Harry Potter much sooner than he would like to, but if it kept them together he really couldn't care less. 

 

Plan A, which was the plan he told Tom, hinged on the fact that no one would mention his reappearance in the Wizarding world to the Black family. Since the oldest of his cousins was two years behind him, if he was lucky, he might go unnoticed until then. However, in knowing what gossipmongers lived in Wizarding Britain, he didn’t keep his hopes up. Odds were that there would be someone at the school, perhaps even a teacher, that knew some member of his rather large family well enough to ask about his sudden reappearance. It was going to be a little embarrassing for them to have to come out and say ‘yes, we knew our son was not dead but we declared him so anyway to save face’. It was ironic in the very best way and Nysa couldn’t wait. He hoped that they would put off publicly reclaiming him for that very reason. Once they did, Nysa then had the rather daunting task of getting the Black family to take in a half-blood orphan. 

 

It was this last task that had Nysa hoping that the Blacks would hold off on claiming him, as his trump card was Tom’s Slytherin ancestry. He needed to use it, but in order to do so Tom needed to figure out who he descended from. Either that, or Nysa come clean about his past life, and to be honest, he was scared to do so. He knew that the longer he waited the more betrayed Tom would feel. It didn’t help that Nysa’s feelings concerning Tom were as genuine as Tom’s were for him. Somehow Harry Potter had become closer to his former arch-nemesis than he had ever been with the Golden Trio. Between that, the brother wands, and how their magic seemed to hummm whenever they used it together, Nysa was almost certain there was something unusual about the pair of them. 

 

+++

 

It wasn’t very often that Nysa and Tom could be found apart from each other, so when one of those rare times did occur, Nysa was careful not to waste it and called Death immediately. 

 

“Master.” Death greeted as he appeared in the small closet room. “Have you called me to finally ask your questions?” Nysa had no clue if Death could actually feel emotions, but at that moment he sure sounded amused. Nodding Nysa confirmed his reason for calling Death. 

 

“I have quite a few questions, yes. One that has been bugging me since I went through the information you airdropped into my head more thoroughly during my time as an infant is concerning my next dimension jump.” Nysa ran a hand through his long dark hair, looking much too old for a boy of eleven. “From what I understand there are alternate dimension where Magic, at least in the form I am most used to, does not exist. I know that since my magic is part of my soul I will have it and the Elder Wand always with me, but for my dimension jumps to work I need ancestors in that timeline, without the Wizarding world I'm not sure how that will work…” Death let out one of his bone rattling laughs. 

 

“Despite being made my Master, you still think far too much like a human.” Nysa wasn't sure if he should be offended by that. “Your power is no longer as limited as mortal Wizarding magic. You now have some of my power, Death Magic, at your disposal. While your ritual served the purpose of solving this particular imbalance, there was no need of it. As my master you could have asked me to place you in the required dimension, at the age you were or at any age you need to be for the balance to be properly restored.” Now he really felt like an idiot. Despite the knowledge swirling around his head all those years ago, he had never once thought to ask the being that granted him the knowledge in the first place what exactly he was to do with it. 

 

“I won’t have to keep replacing souls in other people’s bodies then?” That had been something that had bothered him, taking those seven years of life from the original soul that inhabited Nysa Black’s body. 

 

“While you are not tied to any one body, you became my master as Harry Potter, that form is one you can re-claim as your own in every version of this world.” Nysa only cringed a little at that. As nice as it would be to truly feel like himself, Harry Potter had not lead a very kind life, his body had showed strong evidence of this fact. Between the scars from both the Dursleys and his adventures throughout school, not to mention what the malnutrition in his childhood had done to his height… perhaps he was thinking too much ‘like a mortal wizard’ again. Surely if he entered a world as a three year old version of himself, he would not have scars he received at the age of nine. He could probably use his obviously mistreated body to his advantage in situations where he needed to be taken in by someone. With a deep sigh, he went to ask his next question. 

 

“Alright, now that that’s covered… I need to know. Is there something happening between Tom and I? I never felt this… kinship with him when I was Harry Potter.” He would have been horrified if he had. 

 

“What is happening now could not have happened in that timeline, as there was never enough of his soul near you at once. Had he not created his Horcruxes, I would not have been surprised if he had been able to swing you to his side.” Harry scoffed at the very idea, but didn’t verbally question the statement. “What you have noticed is that your souls resonate with each other. In time, if you allow it to grow, the two of you could develop a soul bond.” Nysa perked up at that, that sounded like a good thing. “I must warn you on this however. Unlike others who would share a bond like this, you should debate this bond strongly, as unlike other souls, you would not pass on to the afterlife together. Instead Tom would be bound to follow you as you do your duty as my Master. There would be no deciding you didn’t really mean it at a later point in time, a soul bond is supposed to last even through death, so it will certainly last through your many lives to come.” Nysa took a shaky breath, perhaps this wasn’t as good a thing as he had originally thought. 

 

“I thank you for this, rather life changing, bit of information Death. Leave me to think it over please, I will call for you again when I am ready to continue our conversation.” Death did not respond, only nodding his skull before blinking out of existence. Nysa moved from where he had been sitting on his bunk and began to pace. Perhaps plan B wasn’t so terrible after all. Tom definitely needed to know Nysa’s past sooner rather than later.

 

_ +++ _

 

It took a total of eight days for Nysa to psych himself up enough to come clean to Tom. In the time it took to do so Tom realized something was up with his friend and was nearly as nervous as Nysa was when they finally got talking. Tom had been thinking of all the possible terrible things Nysa could be hiding from him and had come to the conclusion that Nysa was planning to abandon him for his family once school started. It made sense to Tom, even if it hurt to think about. The idea of a family was an enticing one, but he couldn't help but hate Nysa just a little for the assumed decision.  _ Tom  _ would never have left Nysa on his own. 

 

“Tom, we need to talk.” Tom couldn’t help but laugh weakly at that. 

 

“You sound like you’re about to break up with me.” Despite his joking tone, Tom was honestly worried that Nysa didn’t want him anymore. Nysa just giggled a bit, his nervousness tainting the laughter with a hysteric edge. 

 

“Honestly Tom what I’ve got to talk with you about is probably the farthest thing from that as magically possible.” In complete honesty, he wasn’t sure if this even counted as magic, a soul bond like this somehow seemed like something  _ more.  _ Nysa took a deep breath and mentally prepared his explanation. He knew he had to take into account that Tom was only a boy of eleven, not even fully exposed to the Wizarding World. He had really wanted to wait until Tom was older to reveal his past, but he knew how much of a betrayal Tom would consider it if they continued being as close at they were and Nysa was hiding such an important piece of himself. By telling Tom now the boy would have time to think it over before it was too late and the option of choice was no longer available. On the path they were on now they would reach a point of no return, and Nysa would hate to come upon it when Tom was ignorant of the weight his choice would hold. So, despite his hesitancy, he would tell Tom now and hope the boy could understand. 

 

“Alright Nysa, why don’t we go sit in our bunk and you can talk. I have a feeling that this is rather serious… We’re alright, yeah?” Honest fear rang through the question and it made Nysa want to wrap the smaller boy up in his arms, but he refrained. He would keep his distance from his friend until he was done, as he somehow doubted the other boy would still want to be cuddling with him afterwards. 

 

“I’m alright, but I’m unsure how you’ll feel after I tell you this.” The two of them quickly made their way up to their room and climbed up to the upper bunk that they had taken to sharing. The fact that Nysa wrapped one of their blankets over himself and sat opposite from Tom did nothing for the eleven year old’s nerves. Nysa took a deep, steadying breath, and began. 

 

“Tom, I need you to listen to me until I’m done, some of this will probably upset you, but you need to hear all of it before you come to any conclusions, understand?” Nyse spoke with a seriousness that Tom had never before bared witness to.

 

“Alright Nysa, but just get on with it, yeah? You’re scaring me.” He wrapped his own blanket tighter around his shoulders and ran a hand through his hair in a nervous manner that had, funnily enough, been taken from Nysa who still had it from his life as Harry Potter. 

 

“I’m going to tell you the story of Harry James Potter.” Nysa paused, tracing a finger over an unblemished spot on his forehead in an odd, zigzagged pattern. “Harry Potter was born on the 31st of July in 1980.” Tom scrunched up his nose in a way that Nysa knew meant he wanted to say something, but he stayed silent regardless. “He was born in a time of war. The wizarding world was divided between practitioners of Light magic and Dark magic. The government stood with the Light, and most of the Dark sect stood behind the Dark Lord Voldemort. While Dark magic is not inherently evil, the way he wielded it only further proved the Light sect’s point that it all ought to be outlawed. He was ruthless, he was cruel, he was insane and worst of all, he was winning.” Tom looked fascinated at this point, as he always did when Nysa talked about the Wizarding World. 

 

“Now, the Light side was slowly losing hope when something happened, a prophecy was made by a true Seer. It heralded the coming of their Savior.” Nysa looked disgruntled for a moment before shaking his head slightly and continuing. “ The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…’ This is the only part of it that Voldemort knew, however, the rest of it is the important bit to my story.  ‘And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives… the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born as the seventh month dies.’ Since Voldemort only knew that there was a prophecy child about to be born, and not that he would have to ‘mark’ the child for the prophecy to come true, the Dark Lord went looking for the child in order to rid himself of his vanquisher before the child could pose a threat.”

 

Tom hummed quietly interrupting Nysa. “I can see where this is going, I think, Harry Potter is the prophecy child?” Nysa sent Tom a slightly annoyed look for the interruption, but nodded nonetheless. 

 

“Yes, Harry Potter was one of two boys born at the end of July to parents who had thrice defied the Dark Lord. Neville Longbottom was the other, born the day before him. Now, Voldemort had a decision to make, there was the Pureblood heir to the House of Longbottom and the Halfblood heir to the House of Potter. Since he himself was a halfblood, something not widely known, he chose to go after Harry Potter personally, and send some of his followers, the Death Eaters, to take care of the Longbottoms. On Halloween 1981 Voldemort attacked. The Potters had been hidden by a strong piece of magic called a Fieldus charm. It made anyone but the residents and the castor of the spell, their secret keeper, unable to remember the address or location of their home. Sadly for the Potters, their friend, Peter Pettigrew, who they trusted to be their secret keeper, gave them up to Voldemort.” As he continued, Nysa got a far off look in his eye, as if personally remembering the following event. “James Potter, the father, was the first to die, as he attempted to stall Voldemort long enough to allow his wife and son to escape. Sadly it was for naught, as Lily Potter was caught in the nursery, blocking her son from view with her body, she gave her life in an attempt to save her son.” Nysa took a shaky breath. “And then the strangest thing happened, when Voldemort turned to shoot the unstoppable Killing Curse at the toddler, it didn’t work. Instead of killing the young boy it merely rebounded off his forehead and struck Voldemort down, rendering him a bodiless wraith and leaving a striking, lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead.” Nysa once again traced the mark on his own forehead. 

 

Tom was confused. “A one year old defeated the Dark Lord in his prime? How is that possible?” Nysa chuckled. 

 

“No one really knew, though some speculated that it was wild magic sparked by his mother’s sacrifice that protected him.” Nysa looked speculative himself. “Now, the first to find out what had happened was Sirius Black, the best friend of James Potter and Harry Potter’s Godfather. By all rights Harry should have gone to live with Sirius, but instead Sirius left the boy in the care of another while he went off to confront their traitorous friend. Said friend proceeded to fake his own death and get Sirius thrown into prison without a trial. So instead of going to live with his Godfather, Harry was left to live with his only living relatives. By left I really mean left, as in, dropped on the doorstep with a letter.” Tom gaped at that. 

 

“Who the hell leaves a baby on a doorstep in October?” Tom sounded as appalled as Harry had been when he found out the nature of his delivery to the Dursley home. 

 

“The Leader of the Light side.” Harry avoided mentioning Dumbledore by name, as he did not want the decisions of  _ his  _ Dumbledore to effect Tom’s opinion of the current Dumbledore. “It was not meant with malicious intent, though it was a terrible decision. Especially as the family Harry was left with was that of his mother’s muggle sister, Petunia Dursley nee Evans.” Nysa looked pained in a way that made Tom want to comfort him, so he reached across the space separating them and clasped one of Nysa’s trembling hands in his own. Tom was unsure why Nysa was so affected by the story, but he knew that it was bad. “Now, the Dursleys hated anything different, to the point that, upon finding Petunia’s sister’s  _ freaky  _ son on their doorstep, they swore that they would do anything to stamp the magic out of the kid and keep their home from being infected by his abnormality. Needless to say, the boy was treated like a beast in need of taming for most of his young life. He was belted bloody whenever he did accidental magic, he was hit over the head with frying pans when he messed up his chores, of which he had many. He grew up as a veritable slave to his relatives, and no matter what he did, they couldn’t stop his  _ freakishness.”  _

 

Tom cringed at the slur. “That sounds familiar.” He muttered, earning a wry smile from Nysa. “Did they really belt him? Here I thought the exorcisms were bad.” Nysa scowled at that. 

 

“There is no reason to play ‘who had it worse’ the crap they put us through here is equally as terrible, even if it hurts less physically, the ideals behind the act is the same; that we’re somehow evil or tarnished by our magic. We’re not, Tom. We’re just different.” Tom swallowed and dipped his head to avoid the sudden intensity his friend’s gaze carried. 

 

“I know Nysa, don’t worry.” His quiet response served to calm Nysa down, and the older boy squeezed Tom’s hand in thanks. 

 

“Much like us, the summer before secondary school he received a letter from Hogwarts, and for the first time in his life, he knew that he had somewhere to belong, somewhere to escape to.” Tom nodded in agreement with the sentiment. He had felt exactly the same when Nysa had told him about magic. 

 

“His introduction to the wizarding world was quite different to ours, as Harry Potter was the infamous Boy-Who-Lived. People swarmed him in public, all but fighting each other for his attention. With his supplies he got a magical familiar, a snowy owl named Hedwig. He was sorted into Gryffindor, though the hat nearly chose Slytherin.” Nysa laughed a little at that. “By christmas Harry Potter had two best friends, a muggleborn, Hermione Granger and a pureblood Ronald Weasley, the sixth son from a family of blood-traitors. Needless to say that the Golden Trio, as they were often called by the populace, was extremely disliked by the dark sect, for they were everything the Dark side stood against.” Nysa ran his hand through his hair and sighed. 

 

“You’d think that, after defeating Voldemort ten years prior, Harry would be safe from the Dark Lord, but this was not the case. At the end of his first year Harry Potter stopped Voldemort from rising once again. In his second year he found out he was a parseltongue in the process of finding and defeating a Basilisk, which is a giant, venemous, sixty foot long snake, which had been set loose into the school by a shade of Voldemort, who Harry once again stopped from returning to power-”

 

“Nysa wait.” Tom interrupted. “How did a twelve year old defeat a 60 foot giant snake?” Nysa grinned conspiratorially. 

 

“With a sword of course! He stabbed it through the roof of its mouth when it tried to bite his arm off.” Tom shook his head in disbelief, but didn’t stop Nysa from continuing. “Third year Voldemort didn’t try to rise again, but Harry’s godfather that I mentioned was sent to prison without a trial escaped from prison. In the process of keeping his godfather from being executed, the traitor Pettigrew was found and the snivelling excuse for a man went in search of his Master. With Pettigrew’s help Voldemort regained his body at the end of Harry’s fourth year. After that the war picked up again. Harry faced Voldemort yet again at the end of his fifth year and was captured by Death Eaters while on the run in his seventh. At what would have been the end of his seventh year, came the Battle of Hogwarts.” Harry couldn’t help but get caught up in his memories of that day.

 

“On May 2nd 1998 Harry James Potter killed the Dark Lord once and for all with the ‘power the dark lord knows not’, which turned out to be the Deathly Hallows-that’s important, and I’ll get to that- When the dust settled, Harry was one of very few survivors. Both of his best friends died, as did many of his classmates. Everyone he had counted as family was dead.” Nysa choked on the emotions that threatened to overtake him. Despite it being over a decade ago in his mind, the pain that followed that day was still quite fresh in his mind. 

 

“That’s  _ terrible”  _ Tom’s young voice dragged Nysa out of the memories that had been swimming before his eyes. “What happened after that?” The inquiry was hesitant, Tom wasn’t sure if he really wanted to hear about any more tragedies that befell Harry Potter.  

 

“Well, as I mentioned before, it was his mastery of the Deathly Hallows that allowed him to defeat Voldemort once and for all. What he didn’t know, was that once the Hallows had been mastered, he couldn’t  _ un- _ master them. So even when he left one of them,  the Resurrection stone, in the middle of a forest, and snapped another, the Elder wand, they kept coming back to him in one piece all on their own. They had bonded to his magic, to his very soul.” Tom looked fascinated by that. 

 

“The thing about the Hallows, it that they’re called the  _ Deathly  _ Hallows for a reason. The master of the Hallows becomes the Master of Death himself.” He paused, trying to see if Tom was keeping up. Tom looked a bit lost, so he gave the boy a chance to wrap his mind around it. 

 

“What exactly does it mean to be the ‘Master of Death’?” Tom asked finally. 

 

“The thing you have to understand is that this universe is not the only one, there are a countless amount of them parallel to this one. The Master of Death has to keep the multiversal balance between life and death. When one universe tips the balance, he has to jump into another to tip the scales. Voldemort’s reign all but extinguished the magical population of Great Britain, so Harry used a ritual to go back in time and stop the war before it even began. He created an alternate timeline parallel to his original one.” Nysa hesitated.

 

“He came to 1929 in the infant body of one of his ancestors, Nysa Black.” Tom’s mind was reeling. He pulled his hand sharply from where it had been holding one of Nysa’s own, needing to isolate himself as he analysed what he had just been told. 

 

“You- you’re…. Why come here? Why not stay and be raised by the Blacks?” Tom sounded so lost and confused, that in that moment, Nysa almost regretted telling him. But he knew that for him to explain the weight behind the soul bond, he had to first explain his status as the Master of Death. He summoned the Elder wand, causing Tom to flinch slightly, and wrote out Tom’s full name in fiery letters before rearranging them. He saw dawning realization come across Tom’s face before it closed off in a way he had not seen since he had first met the younger boy nearly four years ago. “I knew you were too good to be true.” The words were bit out in scathing tone. He continued before Nysa could better explain. “So your plan was what? Get close to me and then kill me? Convert me to the Light side? What  _ Harry?  _ What was your plan for me?” Nysa knew this would happen, but he also knew he could explain himself. When Tom made to climb off the bunk he grabbed the smaller boy’s shoulder and pulled him back. 

 

“Wait. You agreed to listen to everything I had to say, I’m not done. I told you that you wouldn’t like some of what I had to say, but you  _ have  _ to let me finish explaining.  **_Please Tom._ ** ” The pleading tone was what got Tom to comply, as it was not something Nysa often showed. He sat back down wrenching his arm out of Nysa’s grasp in the process. “Thank you.”

 

Nysa’s mind was spinning as he tried to figure out how to explain himself. “My initial plan  _ was _ as you said, to pull you to the Light.” Tom gave Nysa a searching look. 

 

“You said ‘initially’ what changed?” Nysa nearly cried tears of relief at Tom’s question. If he was asking that then he still had a chance to convince Tom of his sincerity. It was kind of scary how the prospect of losing his relationship with Tom was so unimaginable to him. 

 

“I met you. That’s what changed.” Tom looked incredulous so Nysa explained further. “I came here expecting a mini version of Lord Voldemort, torturing kittens and terrorizing the other orphanage kids. Instead I found Tom Marvolo Riddle, a boy so much like me it actually scared me on occasion. I met you and you became my honest to Merlin friend and I swear on my magic that none of our friendship has been faked by me.” Magic snapped around them at the proclamation, Nysa blinked, not having meant to make an actual vow. 

 

“What was that.” Tom’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

 

“That, Tom, was a magical vow. If I swore on my magic and what I said was a lie, I would lose my ability to perform magic entirely.” Tom’s eye’s widened as he took in what that meant. Nysa cast a wandless lumos to further prove his point. Upon seeing the little ball of light, Tom all but threw himself at his friend. Wrapping his arms over the slightly larger form of the Black heir. 

 

“You actually care.” The statement was mumbled into Nysa’s shoulder, but made it to his ears nonetheless. 

 

“Of course I do. That actually brings me into why I chose to tell you all this right now.” Tom looked curiously at Nysa when he was gently pushed far enough away that they could look at each other face to face, though Tom was still practically sprawled across Nysa’s lap. 

 

“You mean to say there’s  _ more?”  _ Nysa fought off laughter at Tom’s wide eyed look. He could not, however, stop the small smile that made its way onto his face. 

 

“There is, and it involves you even more than what I’ve already told you does.” Tom looked a little doubtful at that, but didn’t question the statement. “Now, first thing you need to understand, is that a wizard’s magic is tied to their soul, which is why, despite being in the body of Nysa Black, I still have the same wand as I did when I was Harry Potter.” He pulled out his Holly wand and twirled it around his fingers for a moment before putting back in his sleeve with a mild sticking charm. “Tom, do you remember what Ollivander said when we got out wands?”

 

“Curious, quite curious. I’ll have you know Mr. Riddle that the phoenix that gave the feather for your wand core gave only one other, and it just so happens to reside in the wand I just matched to your friend.” Nysa blinked at Tom’s verbatim repetition of Ollivanders little speech. 

 

“You know, I often forget that you have an eidetic memory, then you pull something like that and I remember.” Nysa shook his head good naturedly. “Now, I know that neither Ollivander nor Dumbledore explained the significance of our shared wand cores, so I’ll explain it now. Basically, for phoenix feather wands of the same origin to choose us shows that we have  _ very  _ compatible magic. To the point where, if I were to lend you my wand, you could probably use it without a problem, and me with yours.” Tom grinned. 

 

“That’s pretty cool, though I don’t see how it’s more relevant than me being a freaking Dark Lord in an alternate timeline…” Nysa shook his head again. 

 

“I’m getting there. As I said before, your magic is tied to your soul, since our magic is very compatible, it means that we’re very compatible at  _ that _ level as well. To the point that, were we to stay as close as we are now, we would probably form a soul bond.” As Nysa spoke, Tom focused on feeling the magic around him. The more he searched, the easier it was to feel Nysa’s magic intertwined with his own, most strongly at the points where they were touching. 

 

“Is that why I always feel so much better when I’m near you?” It was something that Tom had just taken as normal enjoyment of his friend’s presence. Since getting to know Nysa his life had been better, so it made sense that being near the older boy made him feel safe. Now that he knew the truth, it explained his feelings even further. 

 

“That’s exactly it. Now, normally a soul bond is a very special, but very welcome thing. But in this case, it might not be.” Tom pulled further away. 

 

“You don’t want me? Is that it?” Tom’s tone was once again harsh and bitter. Nysa huffed and pulled the boy back into his arms. 

 

“No you idiot, that’s not the issue. The issue is, unlike most souls, mine won’t ever actually die. If you were soulbound to any other witch or wizard, you two would go into the afterlife together, since I can  _ never _ die, instead just hop into another timeline, that means you would be stuck ‘hopping’ with me forever. Literally for eternity. I don’t want to subject you to that. I didn’t get to choose becoming what I am now, I want you to have a choice.” Nysa looked imploringly at his smaller friend. “You don't have to decide now, we've got a few years before you'd have to decide, but I thought you deserved to have as long as possible to make that decision.” 

 

Tom looked seriously at Nysa, rolling the new bits of information around in his mind before laying down and pulling his friend down with him. “Thank you for telling me… would you prefer I called you Harry?” Tom’s nose scrunched up cutely as he asked causing Nysa to chuckle. 

 

“It would be nice to hear that again, but I have to stay Nysa in public.” Tom hummed in agreement. 

 

“I could call you your real name when it's just us then.” Harry smiled at that, almost giddy that he had let Tom see the literal skeleton in his closet (Death) and somehow not lost his best friend in the process. Tom snuggled closer to Harry and their magic buzzed contentedly at their close contact. 

 

It took Tom an embarrassing amount of time to realize something rather important about the story Harry had told him, that it wasn’t just a story, but rather, his best friend’s life. They had been lying half asleep in each other's arms as Tom digested everything Harry had said when he came to that realization. Turning to face Harry, he pushed his face against Harry's shoulder and struggled to stifle a sob. 

 

“What did your relatives  _ do  _ to you Nys- Harry? Please tell me that part wasn't true.” The quickly growing wet spot on his shoulder woke Harry just enough for him to catch the quiet plea as it came out of Tom’s mouth. He sighed and wrapped his arms tighter around his friend, allowing his magic to soothe the other boy. 

 

“I'd be lying if I did Tom… Please don't dwell on it. The last time I saw them was the summer before my sixth year, over a decade ago in my mind.” The low reassurances as well as the heady feeling of being surrounded by Harry's magic quickly calmed Tom down again. 

 

“I still hate that that happened to you.” Tom breathed into Harry's shirt. 

 

“So do I Tom, so do I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMFG I"M NOT DEAD!!! I know it's been over two weeks, sue me. I don't actually have any excuse other than writers block, though my creative juices have been flowing recently so expect to see chapters for my other stories (if you're reading those as well) coming out soon!
> 
> Let me know what you think!
> 
> Come find me on Tumblr @queenofallhell


	5. Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm BAAAACK!!! Life has been crazy busy but I found some time to work on this. Enjoy the new chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our boys finally get to Hogwarts! The wizarding world won't know what hit them~

September 1st was upon them before they knew it. Dressed in very similar outfits to the ones they wore to their trip through Diagon Alley, they packed away their school things and waited excitedly for the matron to come out and take them to the station.  

 

As was usual for her, once her obligation to them was fulfilled she left them to their own devices. So they were on their own once she had dropped them in front of the station. Luckily for them, Harry knew exactly where they were supposed to be, and directed Tom over to the barrier. Going through the wall and seeing the Hogwarts Express once more was a bittersweet shot of nostalgia for Harry. Once he managed to pull himself out of his memories, the two of them worked their way through the throng of teary parents and students to get onto the train. As it was still relatively early, and most students were still saying goodbye to their families, the boys found an empty compartment fairly easily. 

 

The first thing they did was change into their robes. First impressions were everything and they did not want to come off as muggleborns when Harry had been training Tom to act the part of a pureblood for the past four years. 

 

They had discussed their gameplan for Hogwarts in depth after Harry had come clean. They knew that for them to stay together, they would need to convince the House of Black that Tom Riddle was worth their time. Having him be open about his status as the Heir of Slytherin was the best way to accomplish this. 

 

It had been surprisingly easy to sneak out of Wool’s and back to Diagon Alley. At Gringotts they had to part with most of their pocket money to pay for the inheritance test for Tom, but it had been worth it. While there was little for him to claim in terms of wealth, the opportunity to officially take up his mother’s last name was worth enough on it’s own. When the Gaunt heir ring was called by the goblins, Harry was curious to find that it was not a Hallow. Apparently his presence in this universe rendered the original Hallows powerless. 

 

Tom Riddle was now officially Thomas Gaunt. Even when it came out that he was a half-blood, the name alone would hold some weight for him. Not to mention his status as the Heir of Slytherin. 

 

They had been sat discussing some of the first year texts when the first unknown students entered their compartment. It was a boy and a girl, both also obviously first years by the lack of color on their school robes. “Mind if we join you? This is the first compartment we’ve found with other first years sat in it.” The boy said, brushing a lock of long brown hair behind his ear as he spoke. 

 

Tom and Harry shared a look before Tom answered. “Please do. I’m Thomas Gaunt by the way.” Instead of offering his hand, as was custom in the muggle world, he placed his hand over his heart, hand flat, fingers splayed, as was traditional when meeting a new person in a non-hostile setting and bowed. The open hand was a show of non-aggression, and the bow itself was a test to see who exactly they were dealing with. If the two who entered were muggleborn or uneducated half-bloods they would probably be confused. On the other hand, if they were pureblood, or educated half-bloods, they would probably be pleased to find similarly educated children to spend the ride with. 

 

Harry, or Nysa rather, as a Black, was the top of the food chain politically. The Black and Peverell lines, along with the extinct Emrys and Le Fey lines, were the oldest families in the wizarding world. So it was pre-planned having Tom introduce himself first. Hopefully they would know the names of the two who joined them before Nysa needed to introduce himself. Depending on who they were, there was a whole nother greeting from someone of his station to those below him. 

 

If either the boy or the girl were surprised by Tom’s Greeting, they didn’t show it. “Well met Thomas Gaunt. I am Thaddius Yaxley, this is my friend Amaya Carrow.” Both of them returned the bow before sitting down and turning curious eyes on Nysa. Harry eyed them for a moment before giving a much shallower bow, with his left hand over his heart, as opposed to his right, and introducing himself. 

 

“Well met Thaddius Yaxley, Amaya Carrow. I am Nysa Black.” You could see the two of them straighten their backs slightly at his name. As custom dictated, Nysa was the one to start the conversation after the introductions. “So have either of you thought on which house you’re likely to be sorted into? I’m fairly certain I will be in either Slytherin or Ravenclaw myself” 

 

“Those same two for me as well, though more Ravenclaw than Slytherin I think.” Amaya answered easily. Tom nodded to her before adding in his own thoughts. 

 

“I think it would be rather embarrassing were I not to get into my own house, don’t you think?” Harry was sure the others wouldn’t see it, but knowing Tom as well as he did, he noticed how pleased Tom was, dropping this information into the conversation. 

 

“What do you mean by that, Gaunt?” Thaddius asked. Though it was Harry who answered. 

 

“You mean you don’t know Yaxley? The Gaunts are the last of the Slytherin line. As the last of the Gaunts, Tom here is the Heir of Slytherin.” Both Thaddius and Amaya lost their aloof masks for a moment at that, though it was quickly rectified. 

 

“I was not aware. It is interesting to know I will probably be rooming with the heir of Slytherin then.” Tom smirked at that. He really enjoyed hearing that title in reference to him. It made him feel like so much more than just some orphaned half-blood. The wizarding world was his legacy. It was his right by blood and magic. 

 

As the train started to move the four of them continued their conversation, moving onto topics such as what classes they were most looking forward to, and when the trolley lady came, which snacks were their favorite. Eventually Nysa pulled out a book and began to read, signalling to the rest of the cabin to find something quiet to do as well. It was strangely satisfying, to hold such power over those around him. He’d have to be careful not to let it go to his head. 

 

When they were almost at the school, a fifth year prefect stuck his head through their door and told them to prepare for arrival. Harry almost choked upon seeing the boy, though his ‘pureblood mask’ would not allow it. The young Malfoy, for with hair like that he  _ had  _ to be a Malfoy, was the spitting image of Draco. While objectively Harry knew this had to be Draco’s grandfather, Abraxas, it was still strange to see how similar they looked at this age. 

 

Tom was the only one to catch his shock, and raised an eyebrow in question. Harry responded with a look that said  _ I’ll tell you later  _ before he stood and returned his book to his trunk. The others followed him in putting away their things, leaving them in their trunks for the elves to collect during the feast. 

 

As the first years were called over by a tall man Harry didn’t recognize, he had to take a steadying breath of the crisp evening air as the nostalgia hit him over the head once more. He knew, of course, that actually seeing the castle again would be even worse; he couldn’t wait to see it again. 

 

The four of them all poured into one boat. “You know, my older brother, Victor, told me there’s a giant squid in the lake. I really hope it doesn’t make an appearance as we go across.” Amaya informed them. Thaddius looked slightly wary at the information, Tom glanced at Harry for confirmation. 

 

“It’s true, there is one. But from what I’ve heard it’s fairly friendly and has yet to cause problems for first years crossing the lake.” Nysa reassured the three of them. “If it weren’t safe, I doubt they would have us ride across like this.” The others nodded at that. It was the logical assumption to make. 

 

Before the conversation could continue further, they came around a bend and got their first look at the castle from across the lake. With the stars and the castle lights mirrored in the lake surface, it was a sight to behold. Harry felt his breath catch in his throat. He couldn’t help but hiss quietly to Tom.  _ ~Welcome home Tom.~  _ Tom shot him a look for that, unused to Harry being overly emotional over something as like this. But as he thought on it he realized exactly what Hogwarts stood for to Harry. It was refuge from his muggles. It was physical proof of the wizarding world, where Harry had finally been allowed to be free to some extent. He had been corralled by destiny, sure, but compared to his life before, Hogwarts had been his first real taste of freedom. 

 

Before they knew it they were across the lake and lined up before the doors to the Great Hall. From the noise leaking under the doorframe, they knew the older students had already sat down and were waiting them for the sorting. Dumbledore, the Head of Gryffindor house, directed them through the doorway and into the hall. The room quieted as they were lead in, and Professor Dumbledore took up his place next to the sorting hat. After the hat finished its song, he began. 

 

“I am going to call you up one by one and you will place the hat on your head and be sorted into your houses. First up, Amberly, Rose.” A small, dark haired girl made her way up to the stool and was quickly sorted into Hufflepuff. Harry took no notice of her, as she was, as far as he knew, a muggleborn, and of no interest of him unless she showed some sort of potential later on. As noble himself, it was imperative to make good contacts early on, so the purebloods were his first priority. He had nothing against muggleborns or halfbloods, but until they proved equally useful he had no use for them. “Avery, Ernest” was a thin boy with dirty blonde hair and a lot of self assuredness in his gait. After Karis Belby made it into Slytherin and another muggleborn, Benson or something, was sorted into Ravenclaw, he was called up. 

 

“Black, Nysa.” Many of the Slytherins stilled at that. As far as many of them knew, the Black heir had died in 1939. Harry would bet his old Firebolt half of them would be writing home about him. He calmly made his way up to the stool and placed the hat onto his head. 

 

**_Well isn’t this interesting. You’re not the first time traveler I’ve sorted, but you are the first to jump dimentions. Master of Death indeed, now if that role doesn't take cunning and ambition I don’t know any job that does. I think you already knew you’d end up in-_ **

 

**“Slytherin.”** Just as calmly as he had come up to the stool, he walked away from it. His tie turing green and silver as he strode over to the Slytherin table. He quickly took stock of how they were seated, and found a space towards the end of the table next to the second years. He made sure to sit himself as close to the head table as he could be, getting Avery to move over with a glance alone, as this was how the Slytherin’s denoted hierarchy. Towards the end of the table the seventh year prefects sat across from each other closest to the head table. It was the same way for the sixth and fifth year prefects. For the younger years it was harder to tell why their year leaders had their placement. Third year had two girls, unlike most other years that had one boy and one girl, perhaps to make choosing Prefects easier for Slughorn. Sadly, between Tom and Nysa, the man would have problems with their year as well. 

 

Harry kept an ear open for other purebloods in their year as the sorting continued. By the time Tom was called up Amaya Carrow had been put into Ravenclaw, and Judith Diggory went into Hufflepuff. Dumbledore looked slightly put upon when he realized Riddle was the same as Gaunt, Thomas. Obviously the old man, unlike the two they shared a carriage with, knew exactly what the Gaunts were heir to. It was really no surprise that Tom joined him in the snake pit, though some of the upper years seemed amused by him taking the second year leader’s seat across from the Black heir. Once they all knew Tom’s ancestory they would lose that look. 

 

Anastasia Greengrass joined them at the end of the table, taking a seat one placement up on the hierarchy next to Karis Belby. When Adalicia Malfoy made her way over to the table she looked quite displeased when the Gaunt heir didn’t move for her to take his place as the second year leader. She was a Malfoy after all, it should be hers. It would have been too, if both the Black and Slytherin heirs had not been in her year. Resigned but obviously still upset, she took the chair directly next to Tom. Ileana Moon, being a halfblood, sat all the way at the end of the table, across from Belby. Ruth Parkinson sat herself next to Malfoy, their families being allies for over three centuries at this point, Harry would not be surprised to find out they grew up together. William Pye was the next name of note, though he was sorted into Ravenclaw with Amaya. 

 

The Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables continued to fill with students of little interest to Harry until one name had him look up sharply. Septimus Weasley made his way over to the Gryffindor table where four older redheads, two of which were twins funnily enough, who Harry assumed to be his brothers, greeted him with cheer. He couldn’t help but glance over at Adalicia Malfoy for a moment, before once more looking at Septimus, something that Tom took note of. Harry found himself vaguely amused and intrigued, knowing he would probably get to watch the beginning of the Weasley/Malfoy blood feud as it happened. In his original timeline he had only gotten the barest excuse of an explanation from Ron for the bad blood between their families. He honestly couldn’t wait to find out exactly what happened. 

 

After Weasley, Thaddius Yaxley joining Tom and Nysa in Slytherin, easily slipped into a seat between Ernest Avery and Nysa. With the sorting finally over, Headmaster Dippet said a brief welcome and promptly summoned the feast. 

 

This was going to be the hardest part for the two of them, Tom especially. Mealtime etiquette was hard to practice in the orphanage. Harry had only had a few years of actual practice himself before joining Tom. Despite their internal hesitation, the two of them set out to do their best, showing none of their feelings. Like in the train compartment, the top of the hierarchy fed himself first before any of those beneath him began. In this case, it was the seventh year at the end of the table, who, having met his sister on the train, Harry pegged as Victor Carrow. Slytherin table began to eat in a ripple of movement. Starting with Victor and then the rest of the year leaders and then the rest of the table. Nysa Black was the first of the Slytherins, followed closely by Gaunt, then Malfoy and ending with Moon. Harry honestly felt bad for her if she was even half as hungry as he was he’d hate to have to wait. 

 

Harry couldn’t help but compare the refined dining of Slytherin house to the other three house tables. Ravenclaw wasn’t all that different in their manners, though they were without any strict hierarchy. The Hufflepuffs were boisterous and somewhat messy, though in no way were they as bad as some of the Gryffindors. The redheaded twins were talking and joking with food in their mouths, as were a few of the second year boys. Students reached across each other in lieu of asking for certain dishes to be passed down. Harry hoped to all things holy his year had never looked like that, but flashbacks to Ron’s horrid table manners dashed those hopes. 

 

The disgusted look he threw the Gryffindor table caught the attention of one of the second years who laughed and leaned over to talk to him. “Horrific isn’t it? I tend to keep my eyes off their table while I eat, lest I get sick from watching their little display. I’m Elliot Prince by the way.” The dark haired boy bowed as best he could from his seat at his introduction. 

 

“Well met Elliot Prince. In case you didn’t catch my name at the sorting, I’m Nysa Black.” Elliot chuckled a bit at that, shaking his head. 

 

“I’m fairly sure most of the table remembers your name Black, seeing as most of us knew you to be dead. Caused a bit of a scandal about four years back.” Nysa knew the boy was fishing for information on his whereabouts, something others caught up on, as seemingly half the table was subtly listening in on their conversation. Too bad for them, Nysa had no intention of letting them know he had lived in a  _ muggle orphanage  _ for the last four years.

 

“No doubt it did. It’s not every day the Black lose an heir.” Now, this could be taken two ways. Either that it was rare for the heir black to die so young, or, the more subtle meaning, which Harry had meant, the Blacks had lost him. Actually, “we don’t know where he is” lost him. Which is exactly what had happened. Elliot raised an eyebrow, obviously catching onto the double entendre, as did many others along the table. His answer started a few hushed conversations up and down the table that he didn’t bother listening in on. Instead he asked Elliot about the teachers and what to expect from each of them, obviously finished with the previous line of questioning. 

 

According to Elliot and some of the other second years, who had added their own two cents to the conversation at certain points, the Slytherin bias existed pre-voldemort. It wasn’t that Harry hadn’t known this, but it was frustrating that he would have to work against it even pre-death eaters. According to Elliot, other than Professors Slughorn, Flitwick and Perks, who taught Potions, Charms and Herbology respectively, they had to expect some type of bias against them in class. Dumbledore was, not unexpectedly, the worst of the Professors in this regard. The upper years also warned them that the head boy and girl this year were a Hufflepuff and a Gryffindor, so they were not to expect any sympathy on that front either. 

 

Soon enough the tables were once again empty and their attention was directed up to the Headmaster. “Now I only have a few things to say to you all before I send you off to your common rooms. Firstly, as it is every year, the Forbidden Forest is exactly that, Forbidden. Unless you are out with a teacher none of you are to venture through them. The list of forbidden items and be found in the caretaker’s office, you have until the end of the week to send anything you did not know was banned before you will be punished for having contraband. Now, with tha out of the way, I wish you all a wonderful start of the year!” Dippet bowed to them slightly in farewell before he stepped down from the podium and the rest of the hall began to clear out. The fifth year Prefects, who introduced themselves as Lydia Nott and Abraxas Malfoy, lead the group of first years to the common room.

 

Upon arriving at an intricately carved portion of the wall, they stopped. “This is the entrance to the Slytherin common room and dorms. The password changes every other week, you are not to share it with anyone not in our house. The first password this year is  _ Semper Pura.”  _ He smirked at Nysa as he said the password. Harry smirked back upon realizing it was his family motto in latin as opposed to French. 

 

Upon entering the common room they found the other four Prefects waiting for them by one of the many fireplaces in the common room. The nine of them were directed to sit on the couches and chairs around them, which they did. Once where they needed to be, Malfoy stepped back and let the older Prefects take the lead. Carrow and his female counterpart stepped forward first. 

 

“Welcome to Slytherin house, the greatest of the four, as if you were not already aware.” This got a round of quiet laughter. “My name is Victor Carrow, Petra Vaisey and I are the seventh year Prefects.” He gestured to the tall blonde girl next to him. “The purpose of the Prefects is to keep you lot in line, as well as to help you all succeed. Despite being the best of the school, outside these walls we are viewed as being Dark wizards without scruples or honor. In some classes you will have to work twice as hard to get the same recognition as your peers. That does not mean that teachers can pick on you. If any of you are singled out by a teacher or students of another house, come to us or our head of house, Professor Slughorn.” He took a moment to gaze at each of them individually, making sure they understood. “Now, academically the best of us Prefects to go to for help are the sixth years, as the fifth years will be studying for OWLs and we seventh years for our NEWTs. Jayson, some say your piece.” Gesturing to one of the sixth year prefects, he stepped aside. 

 

“As you just heard my name is Jayson Lestrange. My partner in crime this year is Melody Goldstein.” Melody gave a cheery wave that Jayson rolled his eyes at, though he looked more amused than annoyed. “Now as Carrow said, we’re the best of the Prefects to come to for study help if you need it, though don’t only come to us. There are people in every year with strengths and weaknesses, check the others in your own year first before bugging us.” Melody stepped forward, continuing for him. 

 

“Now if you have issues that are not school related, again, we sixth years have the most free time, come to us before the fifth or seventh years, unless you need one of them specifically. Now, it is late enough as is, you lot don’t have to worry about class until Monday, but I’d recommend going to sleep now anyway, as it is best to be well rested for your first week. Malfoy is going to show you boys to your room and Nott will take the ladies. Us big kids still have a meeting to deal with so off you trot!” They all got up and followed the aforementioned prefect, though Nysa did look at Melody a bit oddly before they left, she was strangely cheerful for a Slytherin… though perhaps that was what little was left of his Gryffindor prejudice showing through. 

 

The room they were directed to was the very last in the corridor they went down. They passed doors marked for fourth, third and second years before reaching the one with a plaque reading ‘first year boys’. They entered the room to find their trunks already set at the end of their beds. Before they could do more than step into the room Malfoy caught their attention once more. “Now as you no doubt noticed, we only passed doors for the fourth through second years on our way down here. This is because after fourth year you get private rooms. This is to help with studying for exams, as it can be hard to find peace and quiet in the common room or the library. The fifth through seventh year rooms are down the flight of stairs we passed before the room for the fourth years. Unless invited down there I would not recommend snooping around, as most of us ward our doors and the seventh years especially can get quite nasty. I have a meeting to get to, so I will see you all in the morning. Breakfast is from seven until eleven on weekends, wake up when you like.” With a parting wave he left the four boys to their own devices. 

 

The first thing Harry did was cast a ward around his trunk and bed, which the two boys who did  _ not _ know him already watched with interest for a few moments before they started to get ready for bed themselves. Harry finished his warding with a drop of blood on the lock of his trunk, which Avery seemed to find fascinating. Ignoring the boy’s dark curious eyes, he stripped out of his school robes and changed into one of the pairs of pajamas he and Tom had bought in Galdarag’s a few days previous. After a quick teeth cleaning charm he climbed into bed and pulled closed his curtains, though not before shooting Tom a  _ look  _ which showed how much he wished he would not have to sleep in his bed alone for the first time in many, many years. He sat alone in the dark for a long time before he was finally tired enough to start to drop off. Before he could however, one of his curtains was pulled back, letting in enough light for him to notice that in the time he had been laying there the other boys had fallen asleep, well, two of them anyway. Tom was standing awkwardly next to his bed, obviously wanting to join him. With a sigh he set an alarm with his wand for six am, hopefully early enough that Tom could get back to his bed before the other two noticed he had not slept in it. That done, he scooched over and pulled back the covers in an obvious invitation. Tom shot him a grateful look before crawling into the bed next to him and curling against him as they always did. Once the curtain closed he threw up a silencing charm and laid his head down next to Tom’s on the pillow, nose to nose. 

 

_ ~I couldn’t sleep either Tom. It’s the soul resonance… we’ve kept close for so long, it’s difficult to be separated from you.~  _ Tom hummed in agreement, eyes drooping a bit, before they shot back open. 

 

_ ~I have some questions for you, mr. time travel. Some of your reactions today made no sense to me.~  _ Harry gave him a baleful look at the nickname, but did not comment.  _ ~Why was Malfoy so shocking? You looked like you’d seen a ghost. I take it you knew one of his descendants or something?~  _ Harry chuckled a bit, remembering his reaction to Abraxas on the train. 

 

_ ~I did, his grandson was in my year at school, and his father was on the opposite side of the war, I fought with him on more than one occasion. The only really shocking thing was how similar he looks to his grandson at when Draco was the same age. It’s uncanny and for a millisecond I was expecting him to start calling me names or throw a hex at me… Draco and I were not the best of friends, or friends at all really. We were civil after the war, but only barely.~  _ Tom hummed again, obviously pleased to know why Malfoy had gotten such a reaction from the normally quite unflappable Black heir. 

 

_ ~Alright, and what’s so interesting between Weasley and the littlest Malfoy?~  _ Harry choked at the nickname for Adalicia, for she would most certainly castrate Tom if she ever heard him call her that, before he really heard Tom’s question and broke into quiet laughter. 

 

_ ~Honestly? I’m going to let you watch that unfold on your own. Just keep an eye on those two, I promise it will be entertaining.~  _ Tom seemed a bit annoyed that Harry would not say more, but he seemed to realize he wasn’t going to be able to convince him otherwise and left Harry to his fun. 

 

_ ~If you insist… I’m quite knackered now, we really ought to sleep, especially I i have to get up at six to keep up our little charade. You realize if we let them know about the soul resonance they won’t bat an eyelash at us, right?~  _ Harry sighed, knowing Tom was right. But with revealing that came a bucket of questions about how the two knew each other before Hogwarts and that would be a mess in of itself. It would probably be best to wait a few days at least. Let everyone settle in. 

 

_ ~We will Tom, but not right away. If we wait a few days we can pass it off as something fairly new and not bother with questions about how we knew each other pre-Hogwarts. I’d rather keep Wool’s out of all this if at all possible.~  _ Tom had to concede his point, even if it was frustrating. He’d wait a week, but no longer than that. He wasn’t sure he could deal with waiting any longer. He never had been very patient. 

 

_ ~Alright Harry, we’ll wait. For now, sleep.~  _ Harry gave a sleepy humm, snuggling closer to Tom as he did so. 

 

_ ~Night Tom~ _

 

_ ~Goodnight Harry~  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you thought in the comments! Next chapter: Classes begin and our boys get to show just how brilliant they really are!

**Author's Note:**

> How'd I do? Good? Terrible? Should I continue or is no one interested? Let me know in the comments! 
> 
>  
> 
> Feel free to come find me on tumblr @queenofallhell


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